


like the venetian red of my veins, like the liquid gold in your heart

by chrobins



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Holidays, M/M, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5369831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrobins/pseuds/chrobins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little fluff of my OTP</p>
<p>They deserve the world (╯︵╰,)</p>
            </blockquote>





	like the venetian red of my veins, like the liquid gold in your heart

He can see it in the King’s eyes, a vast, endless flame, burning for eternity. But as he tries to touch it, to feel the warmth the flame emits, it’s not as hot as he’d thought it be. It’s a gentle warmth, like the soothing waters of a hot bath, like the feeling of too much wine, like the perfect amount of blankets at night, the perfect amount of kisses at night.

 

Totsuka presses his fingertips to the King’s bare cheeks, humming while doing so, a bright smile on his face. “What are you doing?” Mikoto asks, voice gruff, slightly annoyed by the icy cold fingers on his face.

 

“Warming up.” Totsuka singsongs, stepping closer together in the darkness of the secluded alley, the lights of Christmas twinkling out on the sidewalk, the faint snow dancing down onto the concrete, on top of Mikoto’s fiery red hair. “You’re like my personal fireplace.” Totsuka hums, moving his slightly warmed fingers to the King’s neck. Mikoto makes a small growl of annoyance in the back of his throat, the kind of sound that Totsuka never gets tired of hearing.

 

Mikoto closes his eyes, lets the bustle of the streets turn to faint background noise, lets the sound of Totsuka’s breath, his gentle laughs, his sweet, honeyed voice, be the forefront, let’s Totsuka splay his fingers all over his face. He too can feel Totsuka’s flame, like the feeling of a scratchy scarf, the feeling of warm socks on a cold night, warm like the lips against his skin, the sound of his name against his lips.

 

Totsuka inches closer, and Mikoto uses the wall of the nearby building to support him. Then he feels warm hands join his own, lacing together in the King’s pockets, keeping out of the cold. Mikoto accepts the embrace, accepts the blonde’s body pressed against his own, accepts that nothing around them matters, just the sweet lullabies of Totsuka’s voice, the way his song resonates in the King’s bones, sends shivers down his spine, makes him want to melt, hues of gold and warm crimson soaking around his skin.

 

“You’re unusually quiet today, King.” Totsuka hums, leaning his head up the kiss under Mikoto’s stubbly chin, astonished at how bright red the tiny hairs were despite being so small. The King only makes a small growl, the sound in the back of his throat low like a grumble but almost inaudible had Totsuka not been right next to the other. “Right, right. You like it when I sing right?” There’s no response, only the sound of Mikoto’s deep breaths.

 

Totsuka smiles, squeezes his King’s hands tight, and hums a song Mikoto knows very well, one that brings the faintest of smiles to his lips. When Totsuka says that he loves him, says that he’ll stay by his side no matter what, Mikoto believes him. When Totsuka kisses him on a snowy night, cloistered in the shadows of an abandoned alley, Mikoto thinks that his lips are too warm to lie.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you thought!


End file.
